


A Game of Drinks

by plinys



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Drinking Games, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1307563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tauriel challenges Kili to a drinking game, at least, that's how seems to he see it. Even though Tauriel would argue that she was simply proving him wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Game of Drinks

**Author's Note:**

> For [Irrel](http://irrel.tumblr.com/), again, who prompted me like a week ago to write a fic where these two lovelies get drunk, and I wrote like 90% of it then and then forgot to finish it.. Well, look who finally finished it! Enjoy!

She never ceases to be amazed with the games these dwarrows play in their taverns and bars, with liquor flowing around, brandy and mead, they sing tipsy songs, in low deep notes or roaring beats, and then they play their games. Everything is a challenge, a competition, a race, to see who can do whatever must be done fastest or drink the longest. She watches as they fall deep into their glasses on this particular night, Kili having insisted that she come along, because he’s too kind to see the uneasy looks his companions and kin shoot her way when she joins them.

Tauriel though does not miss the looks, and for that she mostly stays back out of the way, perched upon a counter top she watches the latest round of games play out between the men, a drinking contest of sorts, bets being placed all around. For if they are not gaming, they are betting, that much she has most certainly noticed.

When the current game concludes, her love returns to her side a bit richer, smirking as he tosses a gold coin to her.

“Your brother is deep in his cups, I presume,” Tauriel asks.

“Aye,” Kili agrees, “though not too deep yet, still has a wee bit of sport left in him.”

“That so?”

Kili nods, “We Durin’s have impeccable skills when it comes to holding our liquor.”

“I am certain,” she says, taking a sweeping look over him, “though I dare say any elf could out drink your lot with ease.”

It seems to take a second before he fully realizes what she has implied, and Tauriel can point the split moment his jovial nature turns more mischievous. A smirk finding its way onto those lips she so strongly desires.

“Is that a challenge?”

“It’s not a challenge,” Tauriel corrects with a smirk, “I was merely stating a fact.”

Though as she says the very words she knows exactly what it will be. They’re both very competitive in nature, and when Kili sees something as a challenge he never seems to be able to back down. A skill she quite admires in the dwarrow, particularly when she uses her challenges in order to convince him to do what she wants, for after all, the winner of each challenge has a reward to claim.

“A fact?”

“Yes,” Tauriel corrects with a smile, “it is a fact, that if I were to join you boys in your game of drinks, I would win. Effortlessly.”

“You doubt dwarven stamina,” he says, his tone low and lewd coupled with the wink, it is all too easy to know exactly what Kili was implying, and it certain had nothing to do with his ability to guzzle mead.

“Oh my prince, I am quite aware of your stamina,” she says feeling heat rise up the back of her neck even as she says the words, “though this is not a question of stamina. It is a question of tolerance, and we elves have a higher tolerance for such things. Our wine is made stronger than yours.”

“We’re not drinking wine,” he points out.

“That makes no difference to me,” Tauriel inclines her head in admission, “I would out drink you.”

“We dwarrow drink like we make love,” he replies with a wink, no doubt taking delight in the way her cheeks flush in embarrassment.

Resolutely deciding not to be the only one embarrassed at their situation, she replies, “relentlessly and with little skill,” just loud enough so that those around them can hear her words. Which sends them off into a fit of laughter; however her love does not balk nor flush from her works.

Instead a coy smile finds its way onto his lips.

“You wound me, my fair maiden,” Kili says, dramatically clutching a hand to his heart.

“Fair maiden?”

“Fiery lass,” he corrects.

“Regardless of titles, the point still stands,” Tauriel smirks.

“So it is a challenge then,” Kili asks.

“If you should choose to accept it,” she nods, “though we would have to decide a wager.”

“Aye, I have had something in mind,” he winks again, “a way to correct your illusions regarding dwarven stamina once and for all.”

She looks away this time to hide her flush and says, “and when I win?”

“I’m certain you can think of something,” he offered. And oh yes, she certainly had a few things in mind. “That is _if_ you win.”

It seems as if her night was going to become much more interesting indeed. She settled into a seat at the bar as Kili called up for a round of drinks to be brought out to him and his ‘lady’ for she had ‘challenged his honor’ and he had been called upon to defend it. Her love had a way of exaggerating things that would have been completely absurd if it were not so completely charming.

The first few drinks were easy enough.

It was by the third that they began to gather a small crowd. Bets being passed around, most betting on their prince, though she noticed a few had been bold enough to place their bets on her and she was certain that they would be reaping the awards by the end of the night.

Tauriel effortlessly drinking hers, though the taste of mead was most certainly not in her top choices of drinks, she had a point to prove and thus was able to grin and bear it with relative ease. Though that did not stop her from mentioning as she set down her pint class that she would have much preferred a sweet wine like those found in the Greenwood.

By their eight drinks Kili has started to slur his words a bit. Having already drunk some before their games began. He laughs and quotes something that sounds almost philosophical at one point.

“My love, that is not a lady’s cup,” Kili says slyly, “I doubt our game will remain much longer.”

“Ah but, meleth nin, you forget our discussion on tolerance,” Tauriel replies.

“And you forget our discussion on stamina.”

“My mind is clear,” she answers him, “I forget nothing. Unlike a certain dwarf that sits by my side, who I am certain could not even remember his name.”

“I’m Kili,” he says, pointing at himself, though he furrows his brows for the briefest of moments, as if doubting himself. She hardly dares to wonder if he had actually forgotten his name before, when he was deep in his cups. Though she can only imagine.

“Are you now,” she just smirks.

Their discussions are light, voices filled with laughter the more they drink.

She feels bolder, a light buzzing in the tips of her fingers that comes with the fourteenth drink, and she dares to admit that it might be affecting her now. She watches with brief amusement as many of those around them quickly attempt to switch sides in the betting pool.

“Only now,” Kili aks, doubt creeping into his voice.

“And only just the barest amount,” she corrects him, “while you on the other hand-“

“Will outlast you.”

“I had hoped you would concede before I am forced to humiliate you in front of you kin.”

Four drinks later, Kili sways slightly on his seat. And she knows the game is just about won, thankfully so as it was surely beginning to take an effect on her. The light buzzing feeling from before had turned into a general light headedness and the elleth knew that she was being bolder than usual, though she could not seem to stop the words that flowed from her lips. Even though they were words she would never say in the light of day, much less in such mixed company. She only hoped that the dwarrow around them were drunk enough themselves that they would forget about the night and not hold an elf to her words.

“If I were to yield now,” Kili asks, “how shameful would I be?”

“You would be very wise, meleth nin,” she says, her fingers brushing against his cheek ever so softly, “and I can promise that my _reward_ tomorrow will be most enjoyable.”

She had never quite seen Kili stand up so quickly in all of their time together, though he did stagger forward a bit and Tauriel was all too quick to offer her arm in support.

He’s clearly oblivious to the groans of the dwarves among them who have begun to realize that the game was over, and simply announces, “I lose.”

 

 


End file.
